


Strongest of them all

by Dezee_Mils



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Acceptance, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5685370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dezee_Mils/pseuds/Dezee_Mils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica's had enough.<br/>She must end it all.<br/>She wants to escape it all.<br/>She wants to die.<br/>Because to die would be an awfully great adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strongest of them all

**Author's Note:**

> This is very triggery, so be careful.

I can’t take it anymore. The lies, the hatred, the pain. I can’t go on any longer.

For years I’ve managed to get by, shielding my brother from our father atrocities. Making sure he is never on the front line. But now he’s turned on me. A year from me rescuing both us us entirely and he turns on me. He is just fourteen! And yet he is joining our brute of a father in his drugs and alcohol. 

I’m doing it tonight. Under the bridge just north of mother’s grave. I’ll be drunk enough to where i won’t feel a thing. And the finale, painful reminder of my mother will be eradicated from this earth.

“Going somewhere, Ronnie?” I drop the small bag i was packing and turned to see my brother in the doorway, leaning with drunken lax. His ashen blond hair was disheveled and his shirt stained with beer. He had a red cup filled with a foul liquid. It killed me seeing him like this. HE was only a child. 

“Doing you and David a favor, Matthew.” He growled and threw the cup down.

“My name isn’t Matthew. It’s Terror.” I shook my head and returned to my bag. It only held a few things that made it seem like i was running away, so the search would continue whilst my dead body just floated down the river.

“I don’t care what you go by. I’m leaving. Neither one of you can stop me.” I reached over to my bed stand and grabbed the cracked frame that held our mother’s picture. Nostalgia flooded my body as i relished in this snapshot memory of our once perfect life. It was my father, mother and I bringing home the newly born Matthew. He was nothing but a bundle of blankets. But she was still beautiful. And I’ve grown into a replica of her, adding to David’s anger towards me.

“Are you actually gonna go through with it? Or are you gonna call dad to get you at the bus station, ya puss.” He picked a flask from his pocket and took a swig. His barely visible adam's apple twitched as he swallowed. Every second i spend in his company, the more i start to forget who he once was.

“I am eighteen in a few months. After that, I am not any of your concern anyways. Might as well get a head start.” I turned around to the ever growing monster. “And Don’t come after me, no matter what feelings now harbor your soul.”I turned my back to shrug on my thin hoodie. 

“Ever the poet, aren’t you Veronica?” I just finished rolling up the sleeves on my light, spring hoodie as I shrugged.

“At least I haven't changed for the worse.” I tugged on my old ankle boots and slung my bag over my shoulder, my weapons of minimal destruction hidden in its compartments. “Goodbye, Matt.” I turned my back on the darken soul and unlatched my window. Matthew didn't even call out or say anything. HE just shrugged and left the room.

It was late spring. The sky was clear. I swung my leg out to catch the large bundle of vines that crawled up the sides of our old brick home. I shimmied the rest of the way down and darted through the small orchard to the creek. 

At night, my father's estate was peaceful rather than hellish. The stars were bright tonight and a full moon lit my way. I reached into my bag for the old compass my mother passed down to me. An old momentto. It was easy to get lost in the orchards if you don’t know where to go. So i headed East to the creek. 

As I passed a group of cherry trees, I heard a small rustle of leaves in the trees above me. I quickly went to hid in the shadows of another. i held my breath as I waited for something to happen. ut when an owl left it’s branches, my heart settled and I left the shadows and continued on my path.

Mud from the previous rains softened the grounds and muffled my footfalls, leaving my ears open to the symphony of nocturnal nature. I even silence my breaths to hear the old croaks of the bullfrogs as i neared the water’s edge. The ground started to turn swampy and my feet began to sink if i kept them still for too long. The moon was nearly at it’s peak and i still had a ways to go before I made it to the bridge.

Once the gentle hum of the water’s trickle reached my ears i put away the compass and strode into the water. It was a few yards wide and deep enough to swim in. But in case David set the dogs on me, I need to lose my scent.

I quickly stripped off my clothes and stuffed them into my bag. I pulled my wavy hair into a high ponytail and stepped into the waters. Summer has yet to warm these water as I slowly eased myself into it’s currents. I held my bag over my head as I walked up into my neck. The floor of stony and smooth with pebbles and mud. I stayed in the water, walking down stream for only a few moments before my body started to shiver. 

As I exit the water, I couldn’t help but feeling like I was being watched. I couldn’t pay much mind at this hour as I dressed and walked up stream, North towards my mother’s grave. But as I did, I felt this heavy presence surround me. It was neutral in feeling. Not dangerous or welcoming. But it kept me moving.

Another hour into my trek and the water’s grew deeper and the shores farther apart. Coming up on my left was a small town cemetery. It’s eeriness that hante me as a child no longer gnawed at my soul. Now i embraced it. Death was an old friend.

My mother’s grave was one of the grandest, my now dead grandfather could stand for no less. It was a tomb of victorian decor. Upon the headstone laid her last words to both my brother and I.

_ “You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”  _ Was etched into the now dirty granate. I placed a kiss to the stone and left the compass. 

I know where I am going now.

Just outside the cemetery, on its way into town, was the Bridge. Cast in old stone and laced with vines. I crawled my pathetic body to the bank and stood with my back against the cold moldy walls, feet away from the deep rushing water. I reached into my bag and pulled out my sinnful tool.

The blade was long and beautifully silver, glinting in the moonlight. It’s gemmed handle reminded my of my mother’s words.

_ “If you ever are lost, or frightened. Just whisper ‘I believe’ and you will be taken far far away from your problems.” _

With one last strong breath I plunged the blade into my gut, letting out a disgruntled cry before falling to my knees. I pulled out the knife and wiped it clean, setting it aside with shaky, scarlet hands. I could feel myself already beginning to sway with the lack of blood and blinding pain. Before I lost consciousness and fell into the stream, I sucked in a labored breath, twistin my pained face into a smile and whispering two words to myself.

“I believe.”

 


End file.
